There's everything you know and what you've yet to learn. Life's about what you care about and the things you don't. Truth is, hate is closer to love than indifference. I simply expect that you are fascinated by, and care about words.

Rick and Monique

Saturday, September 7, 2013

Midwest

Midwesta poem by richard j. elgersma

Have you seen the plains of the midwest?
I have. I have. Rolls of hay match the
natural sway of the land full of wheat, barley
and corn touched golden by the midwest sun,
a different kind of sun than anywhere in the world
if you ask me. Because my sun drips honey dew across the grasses and every living thing. A full warm, familiar, and comforting honeypot tips over the horizon; Sweet abundance garnished with strawberry red and clementines. I lived where the streets, full of bicycles and kids
and safe laughter somewhere outside the worry
of their parents who seem mostly satisfied that
they're ok. I live in pain and dusted memories, sometimes fresh
and afoul, and sometimes drowned in the pheasants
cry, and the geese clamoring above in their original peloton. God eyes and angels visit this place, all unawares
until you've pressed this land for all she's got,
leaned into her aggressive hills, wrestled with
the hearts of her hard-working souls. And like the honeybee sunk in colorcaves and pollen
rest, you lie pillowed on your back in prairies,
counting sheep and inventing worlds in clouds.